All that I am
By Geertje Jong
A collection of poems with diverse themes. About life and death, loss and rediscovery.
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- 860 reads
ZYX (IP)
Zeal is not a virtue, unless you are a missionary. Yesterday is not for regretting. Xavier is my cousins name. Waifs and strays need looking after. Very pious people are usually liars.
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- 759 reads
Born again
The sun melts like Orange ice Behind the steel grey line The evening air-brush painted Into the lofty sky On by one the stars appear I shed my clothes Leave them on the shoreline
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- 1642 reads
Silt
On the salty evening breeze A mournful melody Raches you from afar You kiss the hem of infinity Walk through the shadow of trees Into an everlasting Paradise.
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The hunter
Soft translucent mist Wraps her silver arms Around his jager coat In the knee high meadow grass He steps his boot shod feet Leaves animal prints behind His lonliness ribbons
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- 1252 reads
Horrid Horace
A little boy with a wicked sense of humour
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- 1386 reads
Murder of Crows
He watches a murder of Crows As they gather on the Bell wire Their hooded eyes blinking And thinks of home The scuffed front door Where his fingerprints linger
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- 711 reads
Holy Communion
A circlet on your tongue The body of Christ Melts in the heat Of your mouth The blood of your Fathers Son Brought to your lips Small drops of Ruby wine Slip past your chin
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- 1175 reads
Storm
On the edge of the horizon Twists the mighty storm It curls it steel grey fingers Around the egg blue sky And comes like boiling water To land its deafening roar Trees are felled like matches
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- 764 reads
Love is a bread bin
Love is a bread bin The one just over there My master makes some toast 'Please give me some' I beg 'You'll get your diner later' He says and pats my back I sit there while he eats it
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- 499 reads
Love is..
Love is where the blind eye lives Love is where the free hand gives Love is where you find your heart Love is where the fire starts
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- 628 reads
The stranger at our table - Part One
It is no longer about yesterday. Or the future yet to come. Death has crept into the shadow of our lives. Eats away at the very fabric of our excistence. Mort the uninvited guest at our table.
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- 1631 reads
The stranger at our table-Part Two
You used to shout at me like thunder. Now you just attack me with a look. You watch me black and blue. When the milk is cold or when there aren't enough Oates in your porridge.
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- 1552 reads
The Mole hill gatherers
The mole hill gatherers come, with bucket and spade and barrow. At the early arrival of dusk. The fine milled soil gently lifted. To heap the bucket full. This crumbled earth, damp scented.
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- 615 reads
The Crypt
The day of the funeral the sky is thick with fat woolly clouds, like a herd of pregnant sheep huddled together on the brow of the hill.
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- 604 reads
Does the sun shine?
Winter is coming
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- 637 reads
Secrets
How the sun in my eyes Blinds me from the truth Shades as big as bug eyes Leave me in the dark Every tiny glint of light Pinpricks in the shadows Leaves me breathless and hoping
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- 563 reads
Love is a rainbow
Rainbow love
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- 599 reads
Solace
Solace is my guardian I contemplate my journey Far from where I am sheltered I open the naked sky Shivering on the shoreline Among shards of broken hearts Reflecting on the mirrored sea
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- 663 reads
The Measure
The madder night has fallen My cloak is damp with the salty air I have walked bare foot To reclaim my land I let the waves sluice the gathered dust From my feet
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- 391 reads